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anarchy-n-glitter · 5 months

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𝕸𝖆𝖉 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

Summary: Dr. Heather Winters is hired by CHAANK to give her professional opinion on a mystery patient. The kicker? She has two months to determine whether or not he's sane enough to be let out of the vault in the basement of the building - if he's determined unsafe he would be left to die. Even worse, what happens when she begins to fall in love with her mystery patient? (So, this is very Batman inspired. Does the plot make sense, no not really? Do I care, also no. Jack just reminded me so much of Joker I had to do this, sorry.)

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1

“He’s in there? My patient is in there?” The blonde woman breathed, absolutely flabbergasted after being led all that way down to the tenth vault in the basement of CHAANK headquarters. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was doing there, why she even accepted the job. She was a criminal psychologist, someone who could be helping others in the prison system or even helping in court cases (or, at least, that’s what she assumed - she was still new to this psychologist thing). Instead she was there, walking through dark hallways following the brunette CEO of the company.

“It’s a long story, Dr. Winters.” The CEO, who went by Ms. Cale, as far as she knew, turned to face the doctor. “But you have a few months to learn everything about it.” She sounded irritated, and the doctor couldn’t help but ask questions - after all that was her job.

“You don’t sound pleased about me being here, why is that?” Dr. Winters asked, tucking her notebook under her arm. Cale rolled her dark eyes, though the doctor was sure it wasn’t at her, moreso at the situation.

“Some people on the board wanted him alive, said we could fire him but we needed to let him out. I wanted him to rot after what he did. The board was split on the matter until someone mentioned getting a psychiatrist in here to make sure he wouldn’t kill us all. No offense, Dr. Winters but-”

“Please just call me Heather for now.” The blonde, Heather, breathed. The conversation was already rubbing her the wrong way. They really expected her to be judge, jury, and executioner.

Cale smiled a tight lipped smile. “Heather, I don’t have faith in this. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I’ve read his file. To me, he’s better off in there.” It had only been a few days since the carnage he wreaked on CHAANK, and this was to be Cale’s last impact on the company. She had hoped everyone would agree with her when she said he should die in that vault. Heather looked up at the large, steel door under the blue lighting of the basement. Everything down there was a cool grey tone, mostly thanks to the blue lighting, but it set Heather on edge. She could easily lose track of time down there, and lose track of where she was. Not many people seemed to go down there, and she feared that if she did get lost no one would be able to help her find her way out. She wondered for a moment if the man behind the vault door knew his way around the basement, she wondered if he himself had gotten lost down there and they just closed the door on him.

“If my patient is behind this door how exactly am I supposed to interact with him? I find better results when I’m face to face with my patients.” Heather remarked, unable to hide her discontent with the situation. If there was one thing Heather and Cale could agree on it was their displeasure with the whole situation they found themselves in.

“We have a way of letting you see and talk to him but you’re not permitted inside. He’ll be able to hear your voice, though.” Heather huffed at this. “Did you look over his file?” Cale continued. Heather shook her head.

“I haven’t been given access yet. Will I have an office? I’ll look over it as soon as I can get settled in and given access.” She promised, a bit more sincere this time. She wanted to help him, she really did, but so far the company was making it hard for her. She would try her best.

“They’re putting you in his old office.” That was a shock. Heather hardly had a chance to respond before Cale started walking in the opposite direction. She followed aimlessly, like a lost puppy. She followed her down the twists and turns, up an elevator, right to the engineering department. It was just as dark - if not darker - on that level. Heather looked around uneasily, wondering how the hell Cale seemed so calm and collected. Perhaps the events of the last few days hardened her in ways Heather couldn’t understand.

Men stood to the side, working silently while some stopped to leer at the duo. Heather scoffed, wondering how long it had been since they had last seen a woman, everyone down there seemed like they lived there. Sparks flew on either side of them, making Heather jump ever so slightly. She wasn’t a fan of things she felt could set her on fire. But hey, at least it seemed like they were hard at work.

Cale stopped before a wall covered in colorful graffiti, taking a deep breath and glancing at the smaller blonde beside her. Just to the side was a red, sliding door, which Cale pulled open to reveal a large, cluttered room. TVs were stacked along the wall and towering shelves were lined up around the room, making a sort of pseudo labyrinth of this mad man’s design. It’s not right to think that way just yet, Heather scolded herself. She knew nothing of Jack Dante, but from what she could see, her task was already quite daunting.

“All his shit is still there, hopefully it’s enough for you to get a good idea of the man before you get his file.” Cale turned on her heel, ready to get the hell out of there and go home for the rest of the day. Ever since submitting her resignation letter she had been counting the days before she could get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t leave until Dr. Winters made her decision regarding one Jack Dante, who was still locked in Vault Ten, likely still thinking he was fighting for his life. She didn’t turn to look at the doctor as she spoke. “Knock yourself out.”

Two months. Heather had two months to get some sort of idea of who Jack Dante was - what his psyche was like. So far, she had a sinking feeling. If he wasn’t deemed safe and sane enough to be let out they would simply let him die - or at least that was the vibe Cale gave off. Heather knew they would leave him to die - but somewhere deep down she hoped they would instead send him to a facility that could help him. She picked up an action figure from one of his many cluttered desks. She recognized the figure - it was one of the only characters she recognized - Batman. Clad in his black batsuit with his yellow emblem, he held his grapple gun. She found herself amazed that such a small accessory was preserved, despite the mess around the figure. Heather looked around, wondering if he had a Joker lying around somewhere too.

She walked along the isles, looking at his various drawings and scribblings that were plastered along the shelves while still holding onto the little Batman, playing with the cloth cape between her fingers anxiously. The longer she looked at one drawing the worse her sinking feeling got. All fuzzy feelings she felt - any endearing qualities she might have picked up on - from looking at his action figures were washed away the longer she stared at his drawings. They were done with dark, almost violent, strokes scribbled all over the page, depicting naked women and other taboo subjects. Turning around, Heather caught sight of a wall full of pornagraphic photos of women in various poses and in various states of undress.

A porn addict, clearly. Heather thought to herself as she stared in wonder and a sick sense of awe. On the table below the wall sat a pair of lacy panties, which she wished she never saw. She wondered if he had a girlfriend at some point or another, hoping for this hypothetical woman’s sake that he didn’t. She also hoped, that if there was never a girlfriend, that those were just panties he bought and were never stolen from some poor, unsuspecting woman.

Moving on from there, she made her way to the stack of TVs along the back wall, and cautiously turned one on. It crackled and a white line flashed before the picture came on, and on its display was an old Tom and Jerry cartoon. She thought she learned her lesson the first time, but she found herself fighting the urge to smile again. It was endearing, even if this space reminded her of a teenage boy.

Maybe he’s emotionally stunted? She wondered to herself as she moved to the next TV, pressing the power button to see if he had the same thing playing on each individual display. She let out a shocked gasp and jumped back as a video of a woman getting railed from behind came up on the TV, covering her eyes out of embarrassment and surprise. She quickly hit the power button, shutting off the TV as she shook off her discomfort. Note to self, stop smiling at things.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Heather’s hand shook as she set up her notebook, setting her pen (a pink glitter pen - she wanted to have a bit of fun despite how nerve wracking this experience had been so far) down beside the spirals binding her notebook together. She straightened her pen yet again, trying her best to make everything perfect - a nervous habit she picked up from her mother. She worried that if her pen wasn’t perfect something would go wrong and she would be responsible for a man’s death. As she went through school she began to suspect it was some form of OCD or anxiety tick.

She worked much later than she had expected the night before, trying her best to clean up a corner of his “office” so she could keep her things there and sit at a table without feeling the urge to burn everything that came in contact with the surface. She went a little above and beyond though, even making her way to the old, stained mattress in the corner and trying her best to get the stink of sweat out of it, even putting on the fresh sheets she bought from the store when she stopped to get cleaning supplies. She was lucky she did, because after all she did that day she ended up accidentally spending the night when she passed out from exhaustion. When she woke up she realized he had no pillows and mentally wondered how often he actually slept - wondering if he had a home outside of that building.

One of the engineers, Lou, had come down to help her with the video feed from Vault Ten, showing her how to speak to Jack and explaining each piece of equipment she needed to worry about. Lou was a large man standing at about six foot two with a muscular body and a bit of a gut - as if he needed to be any more intimidating. His hair was red and thinning, with a large bald spot in the middle of his head and stray grey hairs all throughout. He had kind green eyes that shone when she showed appreciation for his help. In some ways, he was reminiscent of Homer Simpson.

Lou took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Need more help or do you think you’ve got it?” He asked in a thick Brooklyn accent. Heather shook her head, looking up at the man with a smile on her face.

“Nope, I think I’ve got it. I press this button to turn on the security feed from vault ten, then I just press this button to speak to him right?” She wanted to make sure she had it, but she was almost certain she did. Lou nodded.

“Yep, you’ve got it.” He chuckled, but there was something underneath his jovial facade. He seemed worried about something. “Do you need anyone to stay here and wait for you? I can wait right outside if you want.” Heather pondered his offer for a moment.

“Do you think you need to stand guard like that?” She asked, hoping her voice didn’t shake as much as her hands were. His words worried her more than anything.

“I don’t know, all I know is this guy gave me the creeps when he worked up here with us. He was just bad news…” That wasn’t promising. “I have a daughter your age, I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t want him to have this place boobytrapped and have you stuck here with no one out there to help.”

Heather smiled.

“Then yes, please stick around.” She laughed. “You seem to have one up on me since you actually worked with this guy.” She watched as Lou’s expression changed, it grew more somber.

“He was not a nice guy.” Was all Lou could muster. Jack Dante was not a nice man, he was closed off and short when speaking to others. He hardly offered help and was more concerned with whatever it was he did in his office all day and night. He hardly showered, and he seemed to think he was smarter than everyone else. He insulted people, and there were times when he got violent. Lou didn’t like Jack, but he didn’t think that was a good enough reason to sentence the man to death. He didn’t know enough about him to say he was pure evil, hell, he didn’t even really know why he was locked in that vault in the first place.

Heather pressed her lips into a thin line as she stared at the blank monitor before her. In its reflection, she could see Lou brush past toward the door.

“I’ll be right outside. If you need anything give a shout and I’ll be there.” He reassured her, to which she could only nod in acknowledgement, before he shut the red door.

She took a shaking, deep breath, and held it as she pressed the button on the remote beside her to turn on the monitor. It crackled and static filled the screen before focusing into the blue image of the man she presumed to be Jack Dante.

He seemed exhausted, sitting on the floor leaning against the concrete wall. He had long black hair that came down below his shoulders and looked like it hadn’t been washed in ages. His eyes were closed and she watched his chest rise and fall as he took deep breaths. Was he hurt? She knew he was tired - he had to be - she was sure they weren’t giving him food or water while he was down there, and from what she understood it might have been actively dangerous to do so.

Her hand shook as she reached for the intercom microphone and controls. She wasn’t even sure where to begin. Her words got caught in her throat and they felt as if they were choking her. All she could do was stare at the screen wide eyed. It was slightly easier to come to terms with having someone’s life in her hands when she couldn’t put a face to the name, but now…

He looked scared, even when trying to rest he looked terrified. She knew CHAANK was bad, everyone did after their war machine went haywire and killed a bunch of people, but she didn’t expect this. It looked like he had went through days of literal torture. She couldn’t do this.

“Jack Dante?” His name felt like the easiest thing to start with, they were the only words that would come out. She prayed her voice sounded steady. His head jerked in the direction of the camera, as if he knew people had been watching him. His look of surprise morphed into one of dismay and confusion.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charming, she thought to herself and she opened her notebook, flipping to a page filled with basic bullet points and notes. She had gone over his file while she took a break from cleaning that one corner of his office, and she took as many notes as possible. The more she read from his file the more daunting the task of trying to save him became.

Why are we trying to save him? She asked herself. After everything he’s done it seems like a lost cause.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” She reminded herself, muttering under her breath as she brought the mic closer to her again. “Mr. Dante, I’m Dr. Heather Winters, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He scoffed.

“They sent a shrink…” He murmured, though it was loud enough for the security feed to pick up on. “Hey, at least they didn’t send the cops.” He laughed darkly, and she found herself agreeing with him. From what she knew and could see, she was almost glad the cops weren’t called to come get him - he probably would have been shot and killed. Something about that thought made her feel uneasy.

Jack stood up and brought his fingers to his mouth, chewing on the nail and cuticle in focus as he began to pace. “If you’re talking to me that means the War Beast isn’t on anymore, right?” There was something urgent in his tone. Heather didn’t even know what the War Beast was.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about how you ended up here, Jack.” She changed the subject. Jack took a step forward, looking directly at the camera this time.

“No, no. You’re gonna tell me if that thing is still after me.” He was starting to get aggressive, but she knew there was more to it than that. Something was after him and he was scared… he was alone…

“What thing?” She asked genuinely, and he scoffed in response. “No, they really didn’t tell me what was going on. Is something after you, Mr. Dante?” He paused for a moment.

“You really don’t know?” She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. He snickered to himself, putting his hands on his hips as he began to pace. “I created the thing… it was…” He laughed again, this time sounding more proud than before. “It was beautiful. A perfect killing machine. I worked so hard to make sure I got everything right…” He spoke so passionately about his project. Each word felt carefully picked, and she couldn’t help but notice the large smile that came to his face the longer he talked about it.

“That bitch took the controls from me and locked me in here with it.” He finished, his expression growing dark at the memory. That was a good tangent to follow, she determined.

“Who locked you in there with it?” He looked up at the camera again.

“Who do you think? The bitch, the one that hired you! Cale!”

“I’m sorry.” Heather stated in a voice barely above a whisper. She watched as his demeanor changed from that of a caged animal to something more human. He relaxed, and in turn so did she. He smiled at the camera and she smiled back knowing the look was meant for her.

“Hey, it’s alright, babe - sorry, doctor. I didn’t expect her to tell you how much of a fucking hypocrite she was. She’s been trying to kill me for two days straight now.” Jack snorted. He moved closer to the camera, staring up at it with gleaming eyes filled to the brim with curiosity and mischief. If only you knew Jack, the doctor thought solemnly. She wanted to tell him why she was really there - wanted to tell him the whole truth - but she feared what he would do if she did.

Jack stopped for a moment, looking around for something to stand on. He wanted to be closer to this mystery woman, give her a good idea of who he was. He felt he was doing a good enough job already. He wished he could see her - she sounded hot. He loved how gently she spoke to him, sounding almost shy, but she still had that professional tone that most doctors had… it drove him nuts.

In the corner there was a crate full of various mechanical parts (which he had ordered and never used). He dragged it over to the security camera and stepped on top, getting uncomfortably close to the lens. Heather jumped back slightly.

“I wanna see you.” He whined.

“If you cooperate with me I can try and convince them to let you come to my office.” She offered, which brought a large smile to his face. He hopped off of the crate, pumping his fist excitedly.

“Yes! Sick! Awesome, I promise you won’t regret it dude. I’ll be good.” He stepped onto the crate again, and this time she felt like he was staring directly into her soul. “What do you want to know?”

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

He was volatile, full of anger directed at a world he couldn’t control. He was passionate, but certainly seemed to have an affinity for the dangerous and deadly. His file had described him as having acute violent psychosis, and I could see some truth to that. Yet, the longer he spoke the more I realized he was nothing more than a lonely soul crying out for love and acceptance. He was a lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh at his antics - and much to my dismay he had succeeded quite a few times at making me laugh at his crude jokes. I still don’t think I’m the best person to have on this case, I am, unfortunately, a bleeding heart, and I’m human. He told me about his past, growing up lonely and without much guidance, and deep down I felt there was something in him that was worth saving. He made me want to reach through the screen and comfort him, to pull him into some sort of embrace to let him know he wasn’t alone.

#jack dante x reader #jack dante x original character #jack dante #death machine #death machine fanfic #brad dourif

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